


Hour of the Wolf

by Marsgirl



Series: The Death of Myrcella's Love [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 09:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11871291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marsgirl/pseuds/Marsgirl
Summary: Robb's last thoughts





	Hour of the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> This story is for anyastark

He should not have been surprised by the Frey’s betrayal but he did feel a wave a panic at the thought of never seeing her again. Robb looked over to his wife and suddenly felt sick to his stomach, he blamed her for everything that has gone wrong in the last few months since their marriage. She was everything he never wanted and yet here he was going to die for her—because of her. The only sliver of light he can see come out of his current predicament is the fact that he won’t have to live anymore pretending not to be in love with a woman that was not his wife.

When Robb Stark lays with Jeyne Westerling the first time, he is delirious from the milk of the poppy and grief. He constantly tightened his eyes closed and imagined Jeyne as someone she had no right to think she resembled. He kissed her with a tenderness he promised to another and held her so tight he thought, perhaps, she would mold and transform to the body he wished she had. When he laced his fingers into her long hair, he could practically feel the luscious golden locks of the girl he lost. Afterward, while she laid in his bed wrapped in-between his arms, she had to still herself from asking who Myrcella was and why did he moan her name when he spilled himself in Jeyne.

            He couldn’t help himself but imagine her whenever he laid with a woman, she was the object of his desires. During their married days, Robb trained himself to refrain from discussing other women to his wife. However, he knew Jeyne had doubts about his affections for her, which he privately shared. He would silently whisper the name of the girl he loved during the quiet hours of the night. During the hour of the wolf, when Jeyne was in her deepest sleep, Robb could let his mind venture to ideas he fought away all day. Memories of shining emerald eyes and full, blush-colored lips engulf him almost every night. He did not know that heartbreak could last this long yet it did and he felt like he might eventually die from the weight of it and the war he was forced to partake in. The gods were cruel to him, he constantly proclaimed whenever he was reminded of his duty to his people, his family, his wife. Yet, the gods were the ones to bring her into his life—even if they ripped her away from him too soon.

 

He tried to love Jeyne, but he frequently found himself looking for Myrcella in everything she did. He couldn’t even find it within himself to feel pity towards her when his people treated her unkind. His mother pleaded with him to help Jeyne assimilate but he wouldn’t. To some degree, Robb hated her. She entrapped him and if he were raised differently then perhaps he would have just left her dishonored.

 

_Would that have been so bad? King Robert did it and am I not a King?_

 Jeyne ruined the plans he silently conspired on. It would happen as so:

 

He would win the war

He would save his sisters

He would kill Joffrey

He would kill Tywin Lannister

He would kill Jaime and Cersei Lannister

Spare Tommen and Myrcella

Marry Myrcella

 

Truthfully, though he wouldn’t ever dare to say it aloud but marrying Myrcella was his first priority. He kept this plan even after marrying Jeyne. Perhaps, he thought, there will be an accident during the war or being around so many soldiers she would sully herself. But to no avail, in all ways but one, she was perfect and he resented her.

 

Robb knew of Myrcella’s betrothal to one of the Dornish princes but thought naught on it. He held firm belief that she was devoted to him as he was to her and that when they reunited she will set aside the prince for a king.

 

 

Jeyne knew this, she tried to understand that maybe one day her husband’s heart would belong to her and not some other woman she knew nothing about. She tried to decipher what it was she was doing wrong to make her husband not want her. One night, in their royal tent she had a sudden surge of confidence and asked Robb what type of woman he liked.

“Women like you,” he stated flatly.

She held onto her courage, “Honestly, Robb tell me.”

“Why do you ask, my love?” he looked over her face trying to read it.

“I was just wondering if there was a way I could make you happier?” she looked down to her plate in then back up into eyes so blue she felt her confidence drown in them.

“I like girls who are brave but are also delicate. A girl who has her wits and a regal mannerism.” She watched as Robb’s eyes went off outside the room but came back just as quickly as it went with his eyebrows pushed together harshly.

 “Physically?” the word almost didn’t come out of her mouth.

“Beautiful.”

“Robb…” she says in an annoyed voice.

“I do not understand why you want to know this. Isn’t being married to me enough!” he was upset that she was forcing these unbidden thoughts to cloud his mind. He had a rule: “no Myrcella during the day.” And yet, here she was all golden and smiling at him like she did back at Winterfell. Back when the world was right and all he worried about was asking his father if he could be betrothed to the princess. He never got the chance to ask, though. 

“Just tell me.” She spoke quietly after his outburst. There was a pregnant pause in their conversation. He thought maybe she would back down, but she didn’t. He stood up and proceeded to the door of the tent, he had half a mind to walk out and not respond to her.

He turned to face her and spoke as though each word was part of some sacred text, “Full lips, slender body, green eyes, yellow hair.”

 

Even then he thought only of her, unashamedly whispering her name as arrows struck through his body.


End file.
